My Damon
by chellethebelle
Summary: Written for This Is My Escape for the 2013 DE Holiday Author2Author exchange. Damon has become everything he swore to Elena he'd never be, driving her away in the process. When he realizes his mistake, Damon will stop at nothing to win back the love of his life and prove to Elena that he's still her Damon, always.


**Hello all! Here's my submission to the annual DE Holiday Author2Author exchange. Thanks to Sar (badboysarebest) for putting this on every year. It's a blast to get all the fanfiction authors together to do this. **

**I took Kate's (This Is My Escape) prompt which was: **_I don't care what you write about, but I want something that is going to have me scrubbing mascara streaks from my cheeks because of all the ugly crying you've caused with your words. Give me some romance, but then put my heart through the freaking blender._

**So I'm putting the angst whore panties back on and getting down to it. I hope it doesn't disappoint, Kate!  
**

**Also a thanks goes to Layla Reyne for her beta expertise. Also for the title and the summary. Seriously she's a genious.**

**Also: Blah, blah, blah... characters aren't mine... blah, blah, blah, but the story is mine.**

* * *

_**Elena**_

"Damon!" I squeal, as he hefts me easily over his shoulder and stomps into our house together.

"Quiet, woman," he orders with a swat to my ass. "We have a lot of rooms to break in and we need to get started."

Rolling my eyes, I grip the sides of his shirt and stare at the small of his back. I know there's no fighting him, plus I don't exactly want to fight him. If he wants to christen every flat surface in this house, then who am I to stop him?

Sure, I might be tired after our three-day drive from Mystic Falls, Virginia to beautiful and sunny San Diego, California. Not to mention surprised by the fact that we arrived and Damon immediately threw me over his shoulder, deciding we would start unpacking later. But suddenly I found my second wind. My body knew Damon's touch better than my own, and I knew what was in store once we hit our bedroom.

_Our_ bedroom.

That sounded nice. More than nice. When Damon came to me two months ago about accepting a job on the other side of the country, I was nervous. Then when he asked me to move with him, I was petrified. I was scared because he accepted a job as CFO of his father's company. A company Damon despised because it turned his father into an unfeeling monster. But it was the memory of his mother that had him changing his mind when he got the offer.

It took me weeks to decide if I was going to move away from the only place I'd ever called home, save for the four years I'd spent at Whitmore College. I wanted to be close to my brother, close to the burial place of our parents. But I wanted to build a life with Damon, so I told him my fears. I was afraid he'd turn into his father or the many men who worked for him. Men whose secretaries were their mistresses, men who spent sixty-plus hours a week in the office and also brought it home with them, men who expected their wives to look and act and speak a certain way. But Damon assured me that he'd grown up telling himself he'd never be one of those men, that he'd never let himself become one too.

So I moved across the country with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I'm beyond excited to take this step with him, but there is a bad feeling in my gut that I can't seem to shake.

A very bad feeling.

* * *

I haven't even opened my eyes, but I know that it's late when he arrives. My sleep-addled brain isn't quite sure where I am or how I got here. All I register is the sound of Damon's voice in my ear.

"Baby, wake up," he whispers as he brushes the hair off my face with such tenderness, my heart hurts. It's been so long since he's touched me like this and I want to pretend I'm asleep so I can bask in it a little longer. But I don't because I know the longer I lay here, the more it'll hurt when it's gone.

My eyes flutter open and I realize I'm on the couch in our dimly lit living room. Damon is sitting on the edge of the cushion, the side of his hip touching mine. He looks so handsome in this light. In any light, really. His dark hair is styled out of his face, but a lock of it has broken free and is hanging over his forehead, reminding me of the old Damon. The Damon that never styled his hair save for running his hands through it a few times in the morning.

I push myself up to a sitting position and run my hands through my own hair, trying to calm the curls that are surely unruly now.

"What time is it?" I ask in a groggy voice, blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

"A little after midnight," he answers. His eyes go from soft to remorseful as he searches my face. "Elena, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I answer automatically even though it isn't. I glance down at my brand new dress. The dress I bought just for tonight and wonder how easily I can get the wrinkles out.

"We had an emergency at our Hong Kong hotel," he explains hastily, raking a hand through his hair and messing it up more.

"Damon," I say quietly, moving around him to rise up off the couch. I am so done with this day. Worst birthday ever. "It's really okay."

"Elena," he says in a low voice, catching my hand to stop me from walking away. "It's not okay. I fucked up. Massively. And not just tonight, for weeks."

I sigh and look into his pleading eyes. His voice is so soft and so sincere that I feel my heart melt toward him, as a lump forms in my throat and my eyes start to sting. My heart hurts. He hurt me and I want him to make it better.

"I just miss you," I whisper, my voice breaking.

"Baby," he says huskily, pulling me to him as he stands and takes me in his arms. One of his hands cups the back of my head, pressing my face into his neck, while the other wraps around my waist, holding me close. My arms automatically go around his neck, but I put the effort in to hold him tight.

_My_ Damon. The man I love more than anything in the world.

"I hate that I hurt you," he whispers fiercely in my ear. "How do I make this up to you?"

I pull back and cup his face in my hands before replying, "Love me. Please, Damon. I just need you to love me."

He holds me close and presses his lips against mine, taking them in a fierce kiss. Clothes are shed in a ragged path as we stumble to the bedroom. When we crash down onto the bed, his hands and mouth are everywhere, sucking my skin while pinching my nipples, sinking a finger and then two into my wet heat as his tongue lashes against one nipple and then the other.

My fingers fist in his hair, rendering his hairstyle unfixable, while my body squirms underneath his. His thumb circles my clit, making me gasp for air as I move my hips with his hand, trying to find my release. But I don't want to come with his hand. I need him. I need that connection when he pushes into me. I need to feel his love for me, the physical manifestation of it.

"I need you, Damon," I pant, letting out a long moan as two of his fingers slide into me. "I want you inside me."

He lifts his head and kisses me hard, hot, and opened mouth as he moves between my legs, positioning himself. I hold my breath as he sinks into me, stretching me so deliciously that I dig my nails into his back to withstand the overwhelming pleasure. It's been so long since we've been like this.

So fucking long.

"More," I moan, lifting my hips as he pounds inside of me, trying to get as much of him as possible.

"I love you, Elena," he whispers between heavy breaths, his hand slipping between us to stroke my clit. "I love you so fucking much."

At his husky words and with his fingers and cock driving me mad, I catapulted over the edge, letting my orgasm wash over me. He comes a moment later while my inner walls contract around him. I watch his face, the way his eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls open with a hiss of my name.

It finally leaves him and he collapses on top of me for a moment before he rolls, giving me a kiss and letting me free to go clean up.

When I come back to bed, I'm a ball of nerves again, wondering if he'll go back to closed off Damon or if I'll get my Damon for the night. When I reach my side of the bed, he leans across it, pulling me down, throwing the covers over me and hauling me back against his chest. He curls his knees so mine have no choice but to curl too and his hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together and holding our hands against my chest.

And that's how I fall asleep, wrapped up in my Damon, finally happy again.

* * *

The sound of the door closing wakes me. I lie still in bed and listen to Damon as his footsteps echo down the hall. I listen to him come into our room and use the bathroom. Then I hear his clothes hit the floor - mentally reminding myself to pick them up in the morning - before he crawls into bed next to me. Not touching me, not holding me. Nothing. It's been two months since my birthday. Two months since we last made love. Two months since I last saw my Damon.

"Late dinner?" I ask into the dark.

I hear Damon sigh in response. "Can we not do this tonight? I have a huge meeting in the morning."

I stare at my pillow as a tear runs from my eye to the fabric beneath my head.

"Sure," I say quietly. "We'll talk tomorrow."

The room is silent for a long while before I whisper, "I love you."

But I know he doesn't hear it. I don't ever let him hear it anymore. It hurts too much when he doesn't say it back.

* * *

"Why aren't you dressed?" Damon asks, coming into our bedroom and finding me lying in bed.

"I don't feel well," I reply quietly.

"Elena, this is the most important dinner of the year," he says firmly. "You need to be there."

"Damon, I really don't feel well," I say as I curl in on my stomach, trying to fight the nausea that is overcoming me.

"You've been playing that card for a week now," he snaps as he fishes through his drawer of ties, messing up all of my hard work to organize them the way he likes. "You need to stop being so selfish."

All thoughts of nausea leave my mind as I push up onto a hand and glare at him. "Selfish?"

He ignores me and moves to the closet, removing one of his many custom-made suits.

"I've made so many sacrifices to be here with you and you're calling _me_ selfish?" I snap, my temper and hurt feelings mixing into one potent and dangerous concoction.

He turns slowly, nailing me with angry blue eyes. "You've made sacrifices?"

"Yeah, I have," I reply.

"You see this house?" he hisses, and I know where this is going, where he is going. Down the same path his father did. The very path Damon swore he'd never venture.

"Damon-" I start, but he is on a roll.

"You drive a Lexus? You wear nice clothes? Get to go shopping whenever your fucking heart desires? What the hell have I sacrificed?" he booms, the anger in his voice scaring me half to death. Damon's never yelled at me. He's never been this angry before, not with me. "I work my ass off, giving you the life that you deserve, and you can't go to one function for me?"

"It's not about that," I say, trying to be placating.

"Then what is it about?" he roars, bringing tears to my eyes.

_My_ Damon is long gone.

I say nothing, too scared to open my mouth.

"Elena, I'm not asking again," he warns, his voice vibrating with anger.

I know that I don't want to ask him again. So I say softly, "You don't tell me you love me anymore."

"Shit, not this again," he gripes, running a hand through his hair and then leaning into the mirror over our dresser to fix it.

I cower against the headboard with tears threatening to fall, but I refuse to let him see me cry. I know he won't care. Not anymore. This is not the Damon I moved across the country for. This is not the Damon that would hold me when I cried. This is not the Damon that told me he loved me every day. This isn't my Damon. He may never be my Damon again.

"Fine. Stay here. I'll just call my secretary and have her come in your place," he snaps, storming out of our room and slamming the door behind him.

I flinch from the kill shot. He knows that's my biggest fear. He knows it and he doesn't care. The tears I've been holding in fall down my cheeks.

The nausea that's been threatening overwhelms me and I sprint to the bathroom, tagging the toilet in time to lose everything I've eaten that day.

After my stomach gives all that it has, I search beneath the sink for a new toothbrush and notice a box of unopened tampons. My body freezes when everything clicks. My period is late. The moment the thought enters my mind, I know that it's true. I feel that it's true. I slump to the floor as sobs rip through me.

How am I supposed to live like this? How am I supposed to raise a child in a home like this? Where money is only earned to throw in other's faces. Where a father will only come home to drink and sleep.

I can't raise my child like this. I won't. If Damon can't love me, how is he supposed to love our baby?

No.

_My_ baby.

I hear the front door slam as I enter the bedroom on shaky legs. With a deep breath, I pull a duffle bag out from under the bed. As I pack, I call the nearest hotel and ask for a single room for the night. Despite the fact that Christmas is right around the corner, I'm able to get a room with ease. I'll come back tomorrow when he is at work for the rest of my things.

I turn out the lights and lock up the front door, throwing my bag into the Lexus that I never wanted nor asked for. I blink back more tears, telling myself that I can't cry anymore until I'm in the safety of the hotel room.

I fight the tears the whole way, through the pharmacy where I pick up two pregnancy tests, while I check into the hotel, and as I'm walking down the hall to my room.

Only when the hotel room door closes behind me and I'm faced with an empty bed do I let them fall again.

The worst part is that Damon never even called.

* * *

_**Damon**_

I heave a sigh as I climb the dark steps to my equally dark home. I'm exhausted from tonight's dinner. There is only so much mingling and schmoozing a man can take in one night. Not to mention the mistake I made of having my secretary, Andie, as my plus one. Fighting her off all night was a job in and of itself. Though it's my own damn fault for giving her the wrong message by asking her to come with me tonight.

Note to self, never make phone calls when angry.

I slip into the house and cringe at how loud the door slams shut behind me. Do I always close it that loudly?

I walk quietly to the bedroom and peek inside, finding the bed made and no Elena.

My heart beats a little faster as I move around the dark house but find her nowhere. We need to finish our conversation. I know I was wrong, but I want her to realize all I do for her. All I do to make sure she's happy and comfortable. I know I didn't go about it the right way, but I'm hoping to fix that.

Glancing out the window, I notice that her car is gone. Where would she have gone? Back in the bedroom, I see the closet door is open and some of her things are missing. Moving into the bathroom, her toothbrush is gone along with all of her bathroom cosmetics. Even her shampoo and conditioner have been taken out of the shower.

Shit! I must have really pissed her off if she felt the need to sleep somewhere else. I shrug off my clothes, needing sleep for the long day in the office tomorrow. That should give Elena enough time to cool off and come home so we can talk things through.

With that thought, I'm asleep before my head even hits the pillow.

* * *

A ten-hour day on three hours of sleep is a feat that I never want to accomplish again. I've been grouchy all day, yelling at people who did nothing to deserve my wrath. I suppose I'm also still off from my fight with Elena last night. We've fought before, more often lately, but this one felt different and I'm not sure why. I ignore that feeling in my gut that tells me something is wrong, hoping instead that Elena just needed to cool off so we can talk tonight.

Arriving home, I open the front door and notice that all of the lights are off. I wonder if Elena's gone to bed early tonight. I hope not because I can't go another day treating my employees like I have today.

I stop dead after I flick on the lights and glance around our living room. Elena's big on decorating with photos. She's a nut for them. She loves taking pictures and having our picture taken, so our house is filled to the brim with them, covering the walls in almost every room. But now as I look around, there is not a single frame on the wall.

I walk through the house slowly with my heart in my throat, that feeling in my gut only getting stronger. I realize that not all of the photos are gone, just the photos of me and Elena. It's like we never existed. Why would someone take only the photos of the two of us?

When I enter our bedroom, what has happened hits me light a freight train. I run to the closet and my fears are confirmed, but I run to the bathroom any way to make sure it's not a dream – or rather, a nightmare. But once the light illuminates our palatial bathroom, I see that all of her things are gone. Even the stuff under the sink. Even the his-and-hers embroidered towels that her sister-in-law, Bonnie, gave us as a housewarming gift are gone.

I walk back into the bedroom and see a small white envelope on my pillow. My name is on the front and I recognize her handwriting. With my pulse racing and my hands shaking, I rip it open and pull out the piece of paper inside. Unfolding it carefully, I read the words that are written in her swirly scrawl.

_Damon-_

_Remember when we used to write each other notes and leave them around the house for the other to find? Never in my life did I imagine that I would write one that would be my last. _

_I can't do this anymore. I love you and I will always love you, but I can't live with a man who doesn't love me back. _

_I'm so sorry._

_I hope you get everything you want in life. Even if it's not me._

_-Elena_

I stare at the paper in my hands as the once-familiar sense of abandonment washes over me, followed closely by the also once-familiar anger that seeps into my bones.

I have been abandoned. Again.

First it was my mother, who said she'd never leave me, ever. She even told me that when she knew she was dying of cancer, one that could not be cured.

Then it was my father, who couldn't handle my mother's death. Who blamed the world for what happened to his wife. So he threw himself into his work - never again loved, never again smiled, never again gave me the time of day.

And now Elena. We had one fight and she left me. She packed it all without even talking to me first and left.

I throw the paper down onto the bed and plow my hands through my hair. How could she do this to me? After all we've been through together, how could she quit us so easily?

I drop down onto the bed while my mind answers my rhetorical question for me. The past few months replay in my head as I fall back onto the bed.

I see Elena lying on the couch in her new dress with her hair done. I see the dining room table set up with candles and Elena's good plates. I see the look on her face as she woke and realized that I missed her birthday dinner. A birthday dinner she had to cook herself.

Next, I see Elena in this very bed on her side, facing away from me as I sneak in after a late night with two new clients. I hear the resentment in her voice as she asks about my late night. I see myself lying in the dark, almost asleep, when she whispers that she loves me. At the time, I thought it was a part of my dream so I didn't answer, but deep down I knew it wasn't.

Last, I see the fight from last night. I see the way Elena cowers on the bed, the tears filling her eyes and how her heart breaks in them. I see how my immature comment about calling my secretary hits her. I see the pain I brought to her eyes.

I reach over into my nightstand drawer and pull out the photo of us that I've had tucked away in there since it was taken. It's the one picture that Elena didn't know about. I look at our happy smiles and the way I'm staring at her with such love. I think back to how I felt when that photo was taken, how I'd vowed to myself to never take the woman in my arms for granted.

_Oh how the mighty have fallen_.

But I notice something else while I stare at that photograph. Elena is looking up at me with pure adoration in her eyes, her love for me so clear on her face. It physically hurts to realize it's a look I haven't seen from her in months. A look I single handedly wiped from her face and an emotion I might have even swept from her heart.

Pain radiates through me as I realize that she didn't abandon me. I pushed her away. I put work before her. I put everything before her. I did this. I swore to her that I'd never be the one to hurt her and I did just that.

* * *

The sound of the phone ringing is the only thing that cuts through my massive hangover. I've been ignoring calls for three days as I drank myself into a stupor to numb the pain. But today, I have to be a man again. I have to pick myself up and try to figure out how to live a life without Elena.

I pull my face from Elena's pillow and blindly reach for the offending device.

"'Lo?" I croak into the phone.

"Why is Elena standing on my doorstep after driving across the country by herself?" Alaric's voice growls through the phone. "And why was the first thing out of her mouth a request that I not tell you she's here?"

I shoot up in bed and power through the wave of lightheadedness that hits me. "She's in Virginia?"

"No," Alaric snaps. "You don't get to ask any questions until you answer mine."

I've never heard Alaric this hostile in all the years that I've known him. He's typically an easy going guy, but I guess when someone's wronged his wife's niece and the woman he considers like a daughter, he's not so easy going.

"We had a fight," I answer with a heavy sigh, dropping my head into my free hand.

"No shit, Sherlock," he bites back. "Jenna took her up to the guest bedroom a few hours ago and they still haven't come out, but I can hear Elena crying from down here."

A shot goes through my heart as I think of all the times that I was the one who comforted Elena when she cried. And how in the last few months, I'd see her with those red-rimmed eyes and do nothing about it, because I was late for a meeting or too tired. Too focused on making more money, getting more clients. Too self-involved to care.

"I fucked up, Ric," I admit quietly.

"Then you better come fix it."

* * *

I slump into one of the bar stools at the bar and grille that Alaric owns. After a last minute flight out during the height of the holiday season and a two-hour drive from Richmond to Mystic Falls, I've finally arrived. Since I won't be seeing Elena until tomorrow, I've decided that one drink won't hurt after the day I've had. What a way to spend my Christmas Eve…

Alaric gives me the side-eye as he pours my drink before moving down the bar to help another patron. I wallow into my drink, rubbing a hand across my stubbled cheek. I haven't shaved in the week since Elena left. I didn't want to wait that week, but I have a plan and my plan took time. Fixing what I broke is going to take time and I had to be sure everything was perfect.

I'd been to Mystic Falls many times with Elena, when she'd drive down from Whitmore - the school where we met - to visit her brother. I've always liked it here, but sitting in this bar by myself, I realize that I like it best when I'm with her. Her eyes light up, her smile gets brighter and it's obvious that Mystic Falls is her favorite place. It's where she grew up, and she's told me that being in Mystic Falls also makes her feel closer to her deceased parents.

"Hey Matt!" A booming voice says from down the bar. I cringe at the mention of Elena's high school boyfriend. Sure, high school was a long time ago for her and we've been dating for almost four years now, but I can't help but fell a twinge of hostility.

"You hear that Elena finally ditched her jackass boyfriend and moved back?" the voice asks.

"Yeah, I helped her load her things into a storage unit until she finds a place," Matt replies, making my skin tingle and my hands fist with the possessiveness I feel. Elena is mine and I'm going to get her back.

The other man snorts immaturely. "You going to get some of that?"

I see red. Elena isn't some piece of ass. How dare they talk about her like that!

"No, you prick," Matt snaps. "I'm going to be her friend because she's hurting and when she gets over that asshole, then I'll take her on a date."

While I feel better that he didn't agree, it still pisses me off that he thinks he'll have another shot with her.

_Hell no, dickwad._

I've had enough of this. I push my barely touched drink away and slap a twenty on the bar for Ric before sliding off my stool and stalking out of the bar. There's no way in hell I'm waiting another twelve hours or more to see Elena again.

I get into my rental and speed off through the falling snow toward Ric and Jenna's house. I thank my lucky stars that when I pull up to the curb, the lights are still on.

I don't exactly know what I'm going to say. I've had all this time to plan and still nothing. My mind has deserted me when it matters most. If I say one wrong thing, I could lose her forever and while I have taken her for granted the past few months, I'm never going to let her live another day without hearing me tell her that I love her. It's what she deserves. It's what I should have been doing this whole time, but I got lost. I got carried away in the flow of the business world. Got sidetracked by the promises of six-figure paychecks, fancy cars, fancy dinners, and tailored suits. I lost sight of what really matters.

With a deep breath, I knock on the door, praying to God that she'll give me a chance.

I hear the scamper of little feet running to the door followed by Jenna's muffled voice directing the little one back to watching TV.

The door swings open and I'm hit with the fire in Jenna's eyes. Since meeting Jenna, I've seen her give someone her death stare only once and it made my balls shrivel a little. Now, being on the receiving end of it, I am not ashamed to say that my balls have become ovaries, they're so far up there. Holy shit, this woman is scary.

"You." She spits the word like it's venom.

I don't have a response to that, so I just shrug.

"I didn't think you'd actually come all this way to get your trophy back," she hisses.

Oh yeah, she's pissed. And I imagine she's more pissed than she's ever been.

Her words sting, like they're supposed to, and I can't argue with them. I have treated Elena exactly how Jenna thinks I've treated her.

"Can I see her?" I ask.

"Give me one good reason _why_ I should willingly subject my niece to more pain," Jenna snaps. "Hasn't she had enough in her life already, Damon?"

"Jenna, please," I beg softly.

"I'm not going to let it go that easily. You're not the one who's had to hear her crying over the phone about how you never tell her that you love her anymore. How you only spend time with her when you need her to be your date to some snobby dinner. How you stopped touching her, stopped kissing her, stopped treating her like you even wanted her around."

Each word Jenna delivers is like a perfectly aimed blow. I knew things were bad, but I didn't realize they were that bad. I was too focused on myself - _my_ job, _my_ problems, _my_ needs. So fucking self-absorbed.

"Jenna?" Elena's voice floats down the stairs and freezes my heart in my chest. I've missed her voice. I've been so miserable without her. Without her shoes lying in the middle of the bedroom floor, her dishes in the sink, and her makeup spread all over the bathroom counter.

"Who's there?" she asks and then stops dead in her tracks when she sees me in the doorway.

"Elena," I breathe, as I watch the hurt seep into her eyes.

I take a step forward but stop when I see her close up and counter with a step backward. She's afraid of me. I've seen that look. I've seen it on my mother's face when she and my father used to fight. I've become my father. The one person I swore to never emulate. I've become the very person that I promised Elena I would never be.

"Please, give me a minute," I plead, so close to dropping to my knees and groveling, if that's what it comes to.

She looks over at Jenna who breathes a heavy sigh, shoots me the stink-eye, and moves into the living room.

Elena tilts her head down the hall and I follow her to the guest room. I've stayed in Alaric and Jenna's house many times when I've visited with Elena and every time I've felt like a member of the family, but tonight is different. I'm not welcomed. I'm not wanted here.

Elena stays by the door and I walk past her, putting a bit of distance between us so that I don't scare her off. She closes the door with a soft click and crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for me to speak.

"I fucked up," I blurt out the obvious.

Elena does react, pulling her arms closer to her chest and waiting silently. Probably for new information since she already knows what I just told her.

"How do I fix this?" I ask softly, desperately. I haven't allowed my mind to truly imagine what life would be like without her, but the mere thought of it nearly sends me to my knees.

"You don't," she replies. Her voice is void of emotion, dead, just like her eyes. Eyes that used to stare at me with such warmth and love. Eyes that I've destroyed.

"Elena," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I can't live without you."

"No."

"No?"

Her eyes flare before they go dead again. "You don't get to treat me like you did and then show up and tell me you can't live without me. God," she hisses. "Haven't I been through enough?"

"Elena-" I try to calm her down, because the heartbreak in her voice shatters me. Absolutely guts me. It blasts through my veins and threatens to rip off my skin.

"All I wanted was to be with you," she says, looking anywhere but at me. "I packed up my life, left the only home I've ever known, to move across the country and support you, and all I asked was that you remain you."

"Baby-" I can't handle this. I can't see her like this knowing that I can't do a damn thing to fix it, to comfort her. I would give anything, any-_fucking_-thing, to take this pain away from her.

Her chin quivers as her eyes well up with tears. "You hurt me, Damon. You ignored me, you used me, you yelled at me. God, I love you so much. Do you have any idea how much it hurts when the person you love most in the world treats you like trash?"

She holds herself tighter, giving herself the comfort that I am dying to offer her with anything, _all_, that I have - my arms, my body, my words, my heart.

"It hurts so much, Damon," she chokes out around a sob, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as the tears finally break free from her eyes.

My body moves on it's own accord, taking a step toward her but halting when she scrambles away, clipping her hip on the bureau in her haste.

I run my hands through my hair in frustration. "I came here to fix this. Elena, please. I can't lose you."

Another sob convulses through her body and rips out of her throat. "You already have. Don't you see that? _You_ pushed me away. _You_ wanted to lose me and now you have."

"Please don't say that," I beg in a rush. Hearing the truths I've told myself over the past week from her is more than I can physically handle. "I can change."

She sniffles and dashes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "You know, a month ago I would've given anything to have _my _Damon back, but this week I realized that maybe he doesn't even exist anymore."

Her voice is dead again.

"He does. I'm right here, Elena. I need you in my life."

"You need me for work dinners and to show off to all your colleagues," she spits.

Is that how I've made her feel? How I've made her see herself?

"No, I need you to breathe. I need you to survive. I need you to get up every morning. I need you," I say. I am desperate to make her understand what she means to me.

"I can't do it again," she replies, shaking her head. "I can't."

I inhale a deep breath and throw up my Hail Mary. "Give me one day. Give me one last Christmas. One day to show you that I'm serious about us. One day to show you that the man that made you feel like this is gone and he'll never return. Please, Elena."

Her chin quivers as she adamently shakes her head. "I can't hurt like this again."

I can't take it anymore. This goddamned distance is killing me. I rush toward her and take one of her hands in mine, placing it over my heart, while my other hand wraps around her neck in that way I know that she loves. I pull her face close as I lower mine to hers so our foreheads are touching.

"Trust me," I whisper, my voice breaking again and a tear falling down my cheek. "Please, just one more time. I will protect that trust with everything I am, I swear to you."

She takes a few deep breaths before answering wearily, "Okay."

"Will you do one more thing for me?" I ask. I know I'm pushing my luck, but to hell with it.

"What?"

"If tonight is my last night with you, will you come stay with me?"

"Damon," she starts, but I cut her off.

"Not like that. If it's my last night with you, I just want to hold you."

She lets out a heavy sigh, obviously torn. Once upon a time, Elena would've never had to decide if she trusted me enough to hold her through the night. She would've jumped at the chance and if I didn't suggest it, she'd demand it.

Finally she meets my eyes and answers, "Okay."

* * *

I wake slowly as the early morning sun streams through the window. I roll over and see Elena's back and her mess of brown hair spread over the pillow. God, how did I survive the week I had to wake up without her? And why did I not thank God every day that I got to wake up next to her? Well that changes now.

Shifting over carefully, I press my chest to her back, wrapping one arm around her waist and shoving the other under her pillow to hold her close. I bury my face in her hair and inhale her unique scent. A scent that has been fading from our sheets at home. I would know because I buried myself in them every night since she left.

She moans and I still, afraid she'll wake and push me away. It was a miracle in and of itself that she agreed to stay with me last night. I feel another surge of gratitude that this house was furnished and available to rent month-to-month. I have no idea how long it'll take to fix things, to change my ways, and I don't want to spend that time living out of a suitcase in some crappy nearby motel.

When she sighs and snuggles back into the pillow, I release her. I've given myself enough time to pretend that nothing is wrong, but now it's back to the battlefield and I'm pulling out all the stops. I glance around the living room when I walk in, admiring my Christmas decorations. For purchasing them the day before Christmas, I think I did a damn good job. I walk over to the fireplace and adjust the framed photo I placed there. It's the same photo I've been staring at since Elena left. The only photo of us that I own.

I brush those thoughts away, needing to focus on the here and now rather than things I can't change. So I march off into the kitchen, a man on a mission, to make the best damn Christmas breakfast Elena's ever had. I mentally add it to my list of new traditions to uphold.

I'm putting the finishing touches on the table when Elena stumbles in bleary eyed and hair a ruffled mess. She's always had a hard time shaking off sleep. I watch her stumble toward me, thinking of the times long ago when I'd wake up early just to spend time holding her while she struggled to wake up. I used to look forward to that time in the morning because she was always so soft and snuggly. It was those times when my whole being would vibrate with love for her, when my protective and possessive instincts were at an all-time high. But then I became a man like my father. One who only cared about making it to meetings and impressing foreign ambassadors rather than spending time with the woman I loved in the early hours of the morning.

This morning all I ache to do is pull her into my arms and absorb her weight while she struggles to wake. I decide that if this is my last day with her, then damn it, I'm going to hold her as close as I can. I set down the plate in my hands and cross the kitchen to her, winding one arm around her waist and using the other to gently guide her head to my shoulder. She moans adorably and nuzzles closer, her hands fisting lightly into my shirt. I press my lips into her hair and hold her tighter.

"Sleep okay?" I ask softly.

"Uh-huh," she mumbles, nodding slightly against my shoulder. "I like that bed."

Memory foam gel mattress. The kind she told me she wanted back when she was comfortable hinting at gifts she wanted me to buy for her. I don't tell her that's what it is though. That surprise is being saved for later.

"Me too," I agree. "It's nice."

We stand together a little longer while I run my fingers through her hair, smoothing it down her back.

"Do you want some coffee and some breakfast?" I ask gently, leading her over to a seat at the table.

She nods after she's seated and I dish her up my gourmet breakfast - french toast, bacon, and, her favorite, eggs over medium on toast.

Her eyes grow wide as she takes in the food and I pour her coffee. Two sugars and lots of cream - just the way she likes it.

"Damon, you didn't have to do all of this," she says in awe.

"No, it's something I should have been doing already," I answer honestly.

Her eyes drop to her plate as silence fills the kitchen. I lean over and tilt her chin up with my finger.

"Hey," I say quietly. "None of that here, not today. Please?"

She cracks a small smile, but it's enough to light me up. And her whispered "okay," is all the agreement I need.

We eat breakfast in comfortable silence and when we're finished, I clear the table and encourage Elena to go sit in the living room. I hear her gasp at the decorations she was too sleepy to notice earlier. Pride swells in my chest at the thought of her wide brown eyes taking it all in.

I walk in and find her looking just as I imagined - eyes wide, lips parted.

"How about some presents?" I ask.

She looks over at me and grins. I know how much she loves Christmas and gift-giving. Only last year, she tried to spoil me and I hardly even muttered a thank you. Well, that changes from here on out.

We sit down on the floor and I reach under the tree and drag out the boxes I wrapped and placed under there. Her eyes widen even further when I scoot the pile in front of her.

"Damon," she starts, but I interrupt her.

"Ah, ah, ah," I reply with a smirk. "Get to opening, woman."

She rewards me with a small smile and soft eyes before tearing into the gifts. Every box she opens, she gasps or squeals or smiles so wide her face looks like it hurts, but I soak in every reaction and every bit of attention she's giving me. I drink it in like a dying man in the desert.

I've kept the last one at the bottom of the pile for a reason and when she gets to it, my heart starts hammering away in my chest.

She peels the paper off it carefully, like she can sense my change in demeanor. Her breath hitches when she finally pulls the top of the gift box off. I watch her face carefully, not needing to see what is nestled in the tissue paper. I've memorized what it looks like.

She lifts the frame carefully, like it's the most precious piece of fine china in the world. Her fingers trace the frame and then trail across the glass while her eyes fill with tears.

She looks up at me with shimmering eyes and whispers one word, "How?"

"You'd had a bunch of photos printed and I found this one. It was my favorite, so I kept it in my nightstand ever since," I answer honestly. "I made a copy of it so you could have it too."

Her eyes drop back to the photo, taking in the scene of us on the beach right after we moved to California. I've already memorized the way we are looking at each other, all the love that is obviously between us.

Our gazes lock once more as she chokes out, "Thank you."

Her eyes lower to my lips while she leans in close. I have an internal war with myself. I know I shouldn't kiss her, shouldn't push her, but I want to. I want to so badly. It's been so long since I've felt her lips against mine. So I give in. When her breath rushes across my face, my control snaps.

Hooking a hand around the back of her neck, I pull her to me as I close the space between our lips. She tastes better than I remember. Her mouth opens beneath mine and I don't hesitate to deepen the kiss.

Just when I'm about to pull away, Elena scoots closer, pressing her breasts against my chest while her hands fist into my hair and pull, telling me without words what she wants. I struggle with my conscious, wondering if I should cool things off, when she turns and throws one leg over my hips, straddling me.

Clothes disappear beneath our hands and we clutch each other like it's the last time we'll ever make love. And then I wonder if it is the last time. Just as the thought comes, I banish it. I can't think like that, not yet, not when I have her in my arms.

With my fingers between her legs and my mouth moving over her breasts, I drive her into a frenzy until she takes me in her hand and slides me inside of her. Then, it's her turn to drive me wild. She rolls and slams and swivels her hips, taking me deeper and deeper. Her hands and lips are all over my skin, scratching and tasting. I plant my palms firmly on her ass, squeezing with my fingers.

She starts moving frantically and I know she's chasing it, so I grab the nape of her neck and take her mouth in a searing kiss. She moans her release down my throat, spurring on my own as she rides hers out. After it leaves her, she collapses against me, her face pressed into my neck.

"I wish I could stay like this forever," she says softly and almost sadly, like she knows that things will never stay this civil between us. What she doesn't say is like a knife slicing through me.

She pushes away and lifts off of me. I want with everything I have to grab her hips and pull her back to me. But I realize that no matter how hard I try, I may never get her back and if that happens, I'll have to deal with it eventually.

But for now, I still have a chance.

* * *

"How long has it been since you've ice skated?" Elena asks through a giggle for the fourth time.

"A long-ass time, okay?" I answer her, pretending to be annoyed.

Not that it takes much pretending. My ass is still aching from the number of times I fell tonight.

I smile down at Elena, whose cheeks are flushed pink, the way they've been all day. It was amazing to watch her enjoy Christmas in the hometown that she clearly loves so much. Her eyes have been alight with childlike glee all day. After we got cleaned up and dressed for the day, we visited Jenna and Alaric's house to watch the kids open gifts and to have Christmas dinner all together. After that, I took her to the town's annual Christmas tree lighting and then to the public humiliation that was the town square ice rink.

"Elena?" a male voice calls from behind us. We both turn to see Matt jogging up to us. He stops dead, eyes narrowing, when he sees me. "Damon, last I heard you were a complete asshole that forced Elena to drive across the country to get away from you."

I don't let his attempt to rile me up get to me. "Yes, I was and yes, Elena did. But you left out the part where I traveled across the country to grovel for her forgiveness."

Matt crosses his arms over his chest and looks at Elena. "Do you need any help moving or looking for a place to live?"

I open my mouth, ready to bite off his preppy little head, when Elena steps up, placing a light hand on my bicep.

"Matt, thank you for all you've done already and if I need more help, I'll call," she says, placating him enough so that he gives me one more glare before walking away.

_Fat chance she'll need more help._

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close as we walk back to the car.

"I'm sorry about that," she says, as I drive out of the parking lot.

"Hey," I reply gently, laying a hand on her thigh. "You needed help. He was there, I wasn't. That sucks for me, but I'm glad that someone had your back."

"About that," she starts, but I squeeze her thigh to quiet her.

"Not yet," I plead. "I have one last thing for you before we get to that."

"Okay," she agrees softly.

We're quiet the rest of the way to the house and I'd kill to know what she's thinking. I help her out of the car and up the walk. Inside, I start up the fireplace and pull her down next to me on the couch. My heart is pounding. I'm about to lay it all out. This is my last chance to get back the most important person in my life.

"I know I hurt you. God, I hurt you. I know I don't deserve you after the way I've treated you. Hell, I haven't ever deserved you," I start, running my hands through my hair.

"Don't say that," she says, placing a hand on my leg.

I lay my hand over hers, holding onto her like the lifeline that she is. "I promised you that I'd never become my father. I vowed to myself that I'd do anything and everything to stop it. Yet, that's the exact person I became. I pushed you away, took you for granted. I did the worst thing a man can do to the woman he loves. I went back on my word, I broke my promise."

She stares at me but remains silent, begging me with her eyes to earn her trust back.

"If you can't move on from this," I continue, taking her little hand in both of mine. "I understand, but please, just please listen. I know my word means nothing to you right now, but I swear that I'll do everything in my power to fix this. To fix us. I saw you today. Saw the way your eyes lit up in town. How your family is so close to you. You love it here, I see that."

"I do," she whispers thickly.

"Do you know why it took me so long to come here to you?"

"No," she says, shaking her head.

"Because I was at work, doing everything in my power to move my department to the east coast. Specifically, to Lynchburg."

Her eyes grow wide and her mouth drops open. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it's clear you want to live here and I want to be where you are," I tell her, squeezing her hand tighter as I add, "If you'll have me that is."

"Damon," she whispers.

"This house?" I ask, glancing around the living room. "I rented it, but the owner said they'd be willing to sell. That mattress? I bought it for you. The kind you told me you liked. And this," I finish, pulling the box out of my pocket. The one that's felt like a lead weight. "This ring? It's the one I'm going to ask you to marry me with."

I slide off the couch and onto one knee, looking up at Elena, laying it all on the line.

"I love you. I love you more than I love my job, more than I love myself, more than I love anything. I swear that I will work every day for the rest of our lives to show you that you are what's most important to me and that I'm a man of my word."

Elena remains quiet after my little speech, just staring at me with a blank expression.

"Please give me a second chance. I know I don't deserve it, but I can't live without you," I beg, my throat scratchy with emotion.

Tears fill Elena's eyes and spill down her cheeks as she shakes her head back and forth.

I feel my shoulders drop. She's saying no. That's it. I've lost her. My heart shatters in my chest.

"Damon," she says, her voice breaking through the haze of pain filling my head. "There's something I have to tell you and it might change your mind."

"What?" I ask, my voice hollow.

I hear her suck in a deep breath before she drops the bomb, "I'm pregnant."

Everything freezes. "Pregnant?"

"I tried to tell you," she rushes on. "But I didn't know how or if you even wanted to have kids. We never talked about it."

I have a hard time processing what she's told me. Pregnant? My Elena is pregnant with my baby?

I must sit for too long because Elena starts to rise off the couch. I reach out quickly, wrapping my fingers around her wrist.

"No, don't," I plead. "Please don't leave. I'm sorry, I'm just processing. A baby?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to be a dad?" I ask, the hope I feel leaking into my voice.

"You're happy?" she asks, her brow furrowing in genuine surprise.

"Elena, a baby that's a part of both of us? A person who is half of you? How could I not be happy?" I grab her hands in mine, trying to convey to her the joy that's filling me.

"But what about us?"

"Didn't you hear me? You being pregnant changes nothing. I want to be with you. I want to marry you. I want to be the father and the husband you and our baby deserve," I answer passionately.

"I can't get hurt again. It'll break me," she says, her voice cracking.

I pull her closer and cup her cheek with one hand. "Please, baby. Just take a chance on me. I will not let you down again. Being without you this past week has been my own personal brand of hell. I refuse to get you back just to put you through that again. I won't do it. Not to you and not to our baby."

"Is this real?" she whispers with a small smile.

"Yes, Elena, it is," I answer, pulling her closer and placing a soft kiss on her lips. "I'm here and I want to be where ever you are."

"I just want to be with you. My Damon," she breathes, trailing her fingers down the side of my face.

"Always," I tell her instantly. "I will always be _your_ Damon."

* * *

**Everyone okay? Everyone survive?**

**Thanks for reading! If you wanna check out my other stories, I'd be thrilled! **

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